Me and Your Cigarettes
by whowhatsitwhich
Summary: Out in the world for the first time, she tasted freedom the way parched earth soaks up summer rain…in great gulps and choked gasps. She ran headlong into the wild blue yonder, never considering that she might trip and fall. But fall she did and here is where our story begins.
1. Chapter 1

_"Gives you something you can do with your hands_

_Makes you look cool and feel like a man_

_In the morning you'll probably regret me_

_Me and your cigarettes…"Me and Your Cigarettes…by Miranda Lambert._

The good girl and the bad boy….

She was nineteen. Fresh-faced and ripe in that first green up of spring kind of way. She was a good girl who had never put a toe over the line. Hell, she'd never even seen the line to consider crossing it but that's another tale for another time. Out in the world for the first time, she tasted freedom the way parched earth soaks up summer rain…in great gulps and choked gasps. She ran headlong into the wild blue yonder, never considering that she might trip and fall. But fall she did and here is where our story begins.

Maggie gave her friend a rueful grin as they pulled into the lot, weaving through a tangle of cars and couples. She lifted a negligent hand to a knot of familiar faces that waved them over. Cutting her eyes to the girl who sat in apprehensive silence, she questioned lightly. "There's Glenn and some of the guys from school. Wanna head over and see what the plan is?"

Carol shrugged, tightness around the eyes belying her smile. "Sounds good," she said a bit too enthusiastically to be believed.

Maggie grinned and gave her a reassuring pat. "I'll be there the whole time. They don't bite at least not on first acquaintance." She snorted at Carol's startled gasp. "I'm just kidding. Good Lord, gal. You gotta quit being so damned serious all the time. It's okay to let go now and then." She slid the car into an open space and turned to face her friend. "We can go if you want but I think you could have fun if you gave it a chance. What do you say?"

Carol hesitated, biting her lip as her gaze swept the lot and took in the way everyone stood in little clusters, their voices melding and blending in a delightful cacophony. A little voice in the back of her mind whispered that her daddy would have her head if he knew where she was. Another voice, softer but no less compelling, muttered that it was now or never. If she didn't go, didn't try to find out what was out there then she never would. She'd be Caroline Jackson, the dutiful daughter of Millie and Everett Jackson right up to the moment that she became Mrs. Somebody Else and the door would be closed for good. She wanted to live, dammit. She wanted to feel alive and this was her chance. "Let's go," she said breathlessly. Maggie giggled as she threw the car door open and bounded out. Carol, her belly full of butterflies and anxious flutters, followed.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

She tucked herself into an unobtrusive corner and watched the others in fascinated silence. Part of her couldn't help but envy the ease with which Maggie tucked herself under Glenn's arm and slid her hand in his back pocket with a wink and a nudge. Glenn, for his part, reddened slightly but that was it. Somehow in the midst of a boisterous crowd, the two of them had their own little corner of the world. They were completely in sync, navigating the other's personal space with effortless ease. Always touching. Always oriented toward the other. Together. Watching them, it made her feel suddenly alone which led to the need, if only for a moment, to be alone. She slipped into the darkness, letting out a breath when no one called after her.

She walked in the direction of a lone oak standing like a sentinel in the adjacent grassy patch. Her steps quickened, moving toward it as if it were the Promised Land and she a wanderer in the desert who'd caught a glimpse of salvation. She only wanted a brief respite, to get her bearings. Then she'd go back and likely catch it from Maggie. It was tempting fate going off, but worth the risk in her opinion. Time. That's all she wanted. Time to herself. Funny considering she'd come here thinking just the opposite.

She glimpsed an orange spark and a lazy curl of smoke before she saw him propped up against the tree, a shade darker than the night surrounding him. She ground to a halt, unsure of what to do next. She couldn't make him out as anything more than a dim specter, knowing that the ambient light behind her probably allowed him to look his fill. She heard the slow inhale, the tip of the cigarette flaming brighter as he took a draw, savored it, and then the soft hiss as he let it back out again.

She was frozen, caught like a deer in headlights. She could feel his eyes moving over her, from tousled locks to sandal clad feet. He didn't move nor speak, which sent a suspicious shiver down her spine. How long they stood, him watching her and her doing her best not to turn tail and run she couldn't say. Unable to stand it any longer, she straightened her shoulders and took another step and another until she was right in front of him.

"I didn't know anybody was here," she ventured hesitantly. "I don't mean to bother you."

He shifted, dropping the cigarette and tamping it out with the toe of his boot. "You ain't," he returned shortly. "It's a free country. I reckon you can go where you want."

Her cheeks heated at the sound of his molasses slow drawl. Stop it, she chided herself. He's only being polite for goodness sakes. Get a grip. She twined her fingers together for lack of anything better to do and then floundered, unsure where to go from there. "I'm Carol," she finally blurted. "Carol Jackson." It was hard to tell, but she could have sworn that the corner of his mouth lifted slightly. When he still said nothing, she cast about aimlessly for something else to say. "I go to school over at State. How about you?"

He huffed out a laugh, shaking his head as he lit another cigarette and blew the smoke out into the night. "You always talk this much, Carol Jackson?"

She flushed at the question, her eyes falling to the leaves at her feet as mortification surged through her like a flood. "I'm sorry…that is…I didn't mean to …shit." Her hands flew up to cover her mouth, cheeks flaming even more as what she'd just said registered.

"Don't stop now," he laughed outright. "You got to have at least one more in you. How about damn?" She shook her head furiously. "Hell?" Again, another headshake. His expression took on a mischievous cast. "Well, fuck that."

Carol's eyes rounded over her hand. He didn't just say THAT. But he did. Not only did he say it but he wanted her to. It was disgraceful, disgusting, and almost decadent the way the word rolled naturally off his tongue. She couldn't help but say it to herself, let it ricochet around in her mind. It was just so wrong and yet, there was the tiniest bit of her that reveled in the strangeness of it. She wanted to say it out loud just to see his reaction.

"I gotta head out," he hooked a thumb in his belt loop, studying her through the shifting swirl of smoke. "You'd better get back." He tilted his head toward the noisy group across the way. She followed his gaze, reluctance prompting her to ease deeper into the dappled shadows. He saw it and couldn't stop the words that appeared from nowhere. "Or you could come with me. It's up to you."

"With you," she echoed weakly. "Where?"

He flicked his cigarette out into the darkness before he shrugged noncommittally. "Does it matter?" Spinning on his heel, he rounded the tree, not waiting to see if she followed, and went to where an old Triumph stood not too far away, its chrome a dull gleam in the moonlight. He swung a leg over the seat, kicked the stand up, and shot her a look. "You coming?"

The impulse was strong to run back to the group, to flee and not look back. Instead she found herself moving toward him, bracing a hand on his shoulder as she clamored unsteadily up behind him. He fired the big bike up and glanced over his shoulder. She met that look with a smile as her arms found their way around him. The dusty wings on his vest tickled her cheek as she pressed it to his back. The bike dropped into gear and raced into the night.


	2. bad habits and unanswered questions

_Started young, it's too late to quit_  
_Most call it a bad, bad habit._  
_Your momma told you, you could end up dead with me_  
_Me and your cigarettes_…..as performed by Miranda Lambert

Bad Habits and Unanswered Questions

That first meeting set the tone for all that followed. There was no rhyme or reason. She never knew where he might turn up. He never knew when she might wander across his path. They didn't make plans or promises. It wasn't that kind of arrangement. They came together like two puzzle pieces and fell apart just as easily. The only thing predictable about them was that when one needed the other, they found each other.

The night before she graduated, she stole away in the midst of a party in search of a refuge, someplace where she could catch her breath. She'd just settled herself against the trunk when a light tap on her shoulder pulled her head around, a welcoming smile already tugging at the edges of her mouth. He dropped wordlessly into the empty space beside her and, as usual, waited for her to break the silence. "I didn't think you'd be here," Carol admitted, dropping her gaze to where her fingers plucked aimlessly at the bedraggled grass beneath her folded legs.

"Why not?" He stared off into the night, one hand draped casually on an upturned knee while the other rested in his lap. "Ain't I been here every other time you showed up?"

She could think of a handful of days that she'd driven by hoping to see the Triumph parked in the shade only to be disappointed. Most of the time, he was indeed already there or came shortly thereafter. It was uncanny. She wanted to ask how he knew. Did he have some kind of sixth sense that told him she needed him? What was this inexplicable bond? How did it work? And how would she cope if she ever lost it? Realizing that the gap was fast becoming awkward, she looked up and ran straight into a pair of intent blue eyes. "Yes," she fumbled over the words. "You have been."

"Then what's the problem," he prodded, angling his body ever-so-slightly in her direction.

Throwing caution to the wind, she mirrored him. "I wanted to ask you why. Until now, we've just been killing time. I don't know any more about you than I did the first time we met here nor have you asked me about what I do when I'm not with you. We fall together and then fall right back apart again. What are we doing, Daryl? What is this?"

"It is what it is," he stated unhelpfully, muscles going tense and taut under the then cotton of his shirt. "I didn't think it needed a label."

She sighed into her hands, fingers pressing and rubbing at the sudden stab of pain in her temples. Why was she doing this now? What could she possibly hope to gain from pushing him for a declaration when the essence of their relationship up to now was predicated on not being something easily defined? She was restless, at loose ends, with a strange, electric buzzing in her blood. There was heat, liquid and frothing, that bubbled in her veins. There was need. There was want. But underneath it, there was fear. Fear that he didn't want her, that this was pushing the fragile tie of their relationship too far. But he was here now and every other time she needed somebody to listen, to lean on, and to care. She'd told him more truths than she'd admitted even to herself. It wouldn't do to be anything other than honest with him now.

"It doesn't but I do," she confided softly, watching from the corner of her eye as his head lifted in surprise. "I can't lose whatever this is, Daryl, but I have to know what it is, what it means. What am I to you? A habit? Something to pass the time? A friend?"

He shifted again, fingers beating out a rapid tattoo against his knee as he avoided her questing gaze. "You're Carol. What the fuck else do you want me to say?" His glare turned menacing. "What do you want from me, huh? Want me on my knees, reading poetry or some fucking shit? Do you want his and hers towels and a white picket fence? Do I look like that kind of guy to you? Well, do I?"

She clamored to her feet, dusting off her skirt with anxious hands. "I don't…that is…no. I don't want you to be anything other than you. I made a mistake. I'm sorry."

"You're sorry," he mouthed the words as if tasting them for the first time. "It's a mistake now, is it? I'm just a piece of shit that helped you pass the time. Fuck that, lady. I got better things to do with my time." His arm darted out angrily, flinging a bundle away from him as he stomped to the bike.

Her eyes followed the arc of the loosely bound bundle instead of the angry man who was leaving without a backwards glance. The tissue paper split and a rain of blossoms fell to the ground. Creamy petals surrounded by dusky green leaves. She couldn't place the flower but the realization that he'd brought them with the intent to give them to her was dumbfounding. She froze, a shaky laugh escaping her. Goddamn the irony. He'd brought her flowers and she'd blindsided him without as much as a how do you do. "Fuck," she muttered viscously under her breath, unaware that she'd said the very word that he'd once teased her for refusing to say. "Daryl, wait. Please wait."

He swung a leg over the bike but didn't start the motor as he gave her what should have been an intimidating scowl. "What?" He barked. "Come on then. I ain't got all day. What do you want?"

Words. To answer with words was moot at this point. She'd said too many words already for her piece of mind. What she wanted would be easy to show him if she trusted in the connection they'd forged under this damned tree. If she trusted herself. _Just do it, _a tiny voice prompted her_. Don't think. Act. _ So act she did.

Her arms found their way around his neck, hesitant lips hovering and then brushing feather light over his. At first, he didn't react, made no effort to return those tentative touches. His hands hung limp at his side while hers rested lightly on his shoulders, sliding gently over the smooth leather of his vest. She murmured approval as his fingers splayed over her hips and pulled her closer. His lips parted, his hand canted to deepen the kiss. His breath came swift and light as gathered her in, legs spread wide and feet firmly braced to keep the bike upright. She groaned in dismay as his lips left hers, finding and tracing the vulnerable cords of her neck down to the tender vale in the hollow of her throat. She let her head fall back as he lingered, a ripple of gooseflesh dancing down her spine as he pushed up the hem of her shirt, his thumb making lazy arcs on her skin.

His name fell from her lips on a sign, which he echoed as their lips found one another again. Tongues met and melded, tasting and teasing by turns. His hands linked behind her back as her hands drifted back to his shoulders before burying themselves in the hair at the nape of his neck. The bike wobbled, forcing them apart as he sought to regain his balance. He licked his lips, eyes never leaving her as he kicked the stand back into place. "What the hell was that?" He demanded after a brief period of uncomfortable staring.

"That was your answer," Carol answered stoutly. "You wanted to know. Well, now you know."

He lifted a hand to his mouth, gnawing on the nail out of habit as he watched her out of the corner of his eye. "And," he prompted gruffly. His eyes gave him away. They were a turbulent mixture of worry and want. He thought he knew where she was going but he was like her in another way. He didn't have faith in it yet. It was too new, too fragile, and too green.

"And I want to see what happens next," she confided softly. "I want to be with you, Daryl, and not just every now and then. I want to know that you're as much mine as I am yours."

He let out a breath, giving a short sharp nod as he did so. "What if we fuck it up?" He questioned. "I ain't no fucking Romeo, Carol. You need to know that now."

She took an eager step in his direction, stopping when he held up a hand to stay her. "I know what you are," she reassured him, eyes soft and warm with an emotion he couldn't begin to identify. "I don't care. I want this but only if you want it too. Do you? Can we try?"

He hesitated, uncertainty mixing with naked desire when he looked at her. Finally, just when she was about to gather up the few strands of courage she had left to walk away, he nodded again, a slow smile lighting up his face. "It's a bad idea," he reiterated, just to make sure she understood exactly what she was letting herself in for. "I want it," he said softly. "I want you."

She gave him a beaming smile before swinging a leg over the back of the bike and pressing herself against his back. "You got me," she whispered in his ear, a giddy sort of glee filling her up when he groaned by way of reply. "Now let's go somewhere so we can talk about what that means exactly."

He snorted under his breath, mind already working on what she meant by that. "Best damned idea you've had all day," he observed as he put the bike in gear and gunned the engine. Her laugh trailed behind them.


	3. It ain't love

Seasons changed. Time moved on and so did they.

Her father, his brother, and all the folks in their small town that got quiet when they were seen together. She laughed and said that it didn't matter. He gave her a sideways smirk and said fuck em if they didn't like it. They had each other and that's all that mattered.

Until one day, he didn't smile back. His shoulders were taut beneath the worn flannel of his shirt and he shrugged off her feather light touch on his arm, refusing to meet her eyes. His hands clenched into fists that he buried in his pockets rather than let them see they'd gotten to him. Her questioning looks and quiet understanding just made it worse.

"Daryl, is something wrong?" She finally mustered up the courage to ask him flat out. Her wide eyes were somber in the muddled light sifting through the branches of their tree. "You can tell me if there is. You can tell me anything."

"Ain't nothing," his habitually quiet voice had a harsh note that brought her head up. "Don't wanna talk about it."

She side eyed him before edging closer, her fingers tracing the contours of the old bike as she rounded the front end and paused before him. "I don't accept that," she challenged him boldly, her heart pitter-pattering in her chest, unsure of what his reaction would be to her calling him out. "I can't fix it if I don't know what's broken."

Daryl exploded into furious action, sending her back on her heels as he pushed off the bike and started pacing. "Leave it, Carol," he warned gruffly. "Don't go playing games right now." His eyes fell away from her face and he continued his tight little circles around the tree.

"Alright," she let out a long, slow breath. "If that's what you want, Daryl. I'm sorry."

His temper flared, sending out a torrent of anger and hurt that poured over her in an unending tide. "Fuck," he exclaimed, throwing his hands about in a furious arc. "Sorry? Ain't that just great? What do you have to be sorry about? I can't…" his words trailed off as he spun on his heel and straddled the bike. He gunned the motor and kicked it into gear. "I don't need this shit." Without a word, he hit the gas and sped off into the night.

Xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

She didn't call. She didn't drive past that damned tree, hoping and praying that he'd be there, wearing that smile he saved just for her. She didn't let herself get caught up in the maybe or the might have been. Carol did what she'd always done….she kept her eyes on the horizon and she moved on.

Her first job was teaching art and music at the local elementary school. She buried herself in lesson plans, finger painting, and nights spent with a warm drink and a good book. Friends tried to draw her out, but she brushed them aside as easily as she donned her smile in the morning. Her pain was hers alone. She didn't want to share it or answer questions about it. She didn't need their understanding or the pity that inevitably followed. What she had was enough. It had to be.

Weeks slipped by like water under the bridge. First, minutes and then hours and finally days would pass without thinking of him. It got a little bit harder to remember the exact shade of blue in his eyes, the way his hands moved when he talked, the hesitant but precious curve of his lip when he smiled. She didn't breathe deep after a sudden rain, holding it in because it smelled like him. She didn't sleep in his shirt anymore, pressing the soft flannel to her cheek while tears etched burning lines on her face. She folded those memories up and tucked them away, treasured and beloved but no longer part of her. She let him go.

Xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

His name was Tyreese. He was steady and sweet and told her that a cup of coffee was all he wanted. She couldn't help but laugh at the beseeching expression on his face. Maggie watched from the teacher's lounge door and gave her a thumbs up when she shot an anxious look over her shoulder. _Go on_, she mouthed. _Live a little_. Carol rolled her eyes but there was a sense of determination about her as she climbed into the passenger seat and folded her hands in her lap. _It'll be okay. You can do this. Don't worry_.

Coffee twice a week led to a long lunch which opened the door to dinner one balmy summer night. He was a gentleman, never asking for more than she was willing to give. She smiled more, laughed often, and wondered why there was a dull ache where her heart used to be.

They stood on her front porch, exchanging quips and goodnights after a pleasant evening. She threw back her head, laughter-free and rich and warm-bubbling in the back of her throat. She started when his lips, dry and soft as a moth's wing, gently grazes her cheek. "Tyreese," she blurted. "What are…I mean…why did you do that?"

He shuffled his feet but a tiny smile tugged at the corners of him mouth and he was anything but repentant when he met her rounded gaze. "Just wanted to see what it was like. Beg pardon, Carol."

"That's…uh…goodnight," she muttered faintly, hand lifting to touch the place where his lips had been just a moment ago. She pushed through the door and dropped boneless in the entryway, her heart doing double time in her chest._ He kissed me._ The words tumbled over themselves in her mind. _Oh, God. He kissed me._

The scrape of a boot on the hollow boards of her front porch caught her attention. Dammit. Was he still out there? What could she say? How could she fix this? Did she even want to? She peered through the curtains, the light diffuse and misty as it illuminated a hunched form on the steps. She floundered, groping blindly for the big umbrella resting in a bin by the door as she keyed the lock and swung it open. A pair of blue eyes, dull with resignation and defeat…not something she was used to seeing in him….brought her up short. She realized she had the umbrella poised and ready to swing and hurriedly lowered it to her side as she took him in. God, it seemed like years since she'd last seen him.

He was thinner, his hair hanging in lank strands that fell into his eyes. The buttery leather of his angel wing vest molded to the rigid lines of his back. His eyes narrowed as he watched her drop her would be weapon and then fidget as the silence stretched out to an uncomfortable length between them.

"Do you want to come in?" She questioned uncertainly. He shook his head wordlessly, worrying his bottom lip as he continued to study her. "Do you want me to come out?" A short, curt nod was her only reply. "Daryl, what are you doing here? What do you want?"

"Are you with him now?" The words were diffident, almost shy, and fell like stones at her feet. The muscles in his jaw worked as he gritted his teeth. He hadn't wanted to say them, much less give them voice where she could hear but they were inevitable. It would be easier to hold back the dawn. Some part of him still considered her to be his, and that part wasn't letting go. Not yet.

"Not yet," she confided softly. "Not for sure. I don't know. Maybe."

His eyes closed, pain simmering in the depths. "He'll treat you right, the way you deserve." He bit out harshly. "Better than me." He pushed off the steps and hurried off into the dark but he didn't make it far.

"What the hell are you thinking?" She raged as her fist slammed into the hard planes of his chest. "You left me. You. Left. Me." Hot tears poured forth and she made no attempt to stop them. "Did you think I would wait? That you could just pick up where you left off? Fuck."

Her mind reeled as the epithet rolled off her tongue. She couldn't believe she'd said it, couldn't believe the waves of anger threatening to pull her under. She hurt, ached because of him and she wanted him to know it, to feel it in his bones. Her hands battered at him…punches alternating with an open-handed slap that stung her palm. Words-furious, stuttered, incoherent-were flung at him like accusations. She didn't hold back.

"I'm not a toy," she snarled. "You don't get to have me and then toss me aside when you're bored or scared or both. It doesn't work like that. I was there every damned time you wanted me. You left. You."

"You deserve better," he broke in. "Better than me, better than I can give you. Everybody knows it but you. Fuck, Carol."

She slapped him again, blood pounding in her ears like thunder . "It's not about what I deserve, you stupid man. It's about what I want, what I've wanted since the first night I saw you. I get to decide that, not you and fuck you if you can't live with it."

Her words trembled in the silence between them. She glared at him. He stared like he'd never seen her before. And then he laughed...warm and free and clear as a bright morning sky. "So, I'm gonna have to live with the love, is that it?"

She fumbled then, practically dropping the umbrella in her haste. "Love," she gasped. "Who said anything about love? You're ridiculous."

"I'm scared," he corrected softly. "I ain't never had nothing good my whole life. How could I know you'd be any different? Why would you stay? Nobody ever has."

His admission stopped her cold. She reached for him but stayed her hand, Not yet. Soon but not yet. "You'd have to trust me, Daryl, but there's no guarantees. You have to love me and trust that I love you and take the rest on faith."

He dropped his head, eyes closing as his chin tucked into his chest. He sighed softly, something seeming to loosen within as he did. "I fucked up," his hands splayed at his sides as he faced her. "I ran like the pussy Merle always said I was. God help me, Carol, but I'm sorry." He inched forward, an expression dangerously close to hope in his eyes. "I love you," he stated emphatically. "Give me a chance to make this right."

Her arms coiling around his neck said so. Her body moving in close and settling against his said so. Her lips dropping a line of kisses along his jaw said so. But it was the way she said his name after, twined together in the dark with nothing but quiet and moonlight between them that told him she loved him too.


End file.
